


a kiss to build a dream on

by reindeerjumper



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 01:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11544651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: Two back-to-back ficlets that revolve around Miss Fisher's chaise lounge.





	a kiss to build a dream on

**Author's Note:**

> My first Phrack fic! I just finished all 3 seasons and I'm utterly enamored with them both. If you're up to flailing, come visit me at [tumblr](http://hisreindeerjumper.tumblr.com)!

It was late, and cold, and Jack was closer to Phryne’s house than he was to his own. She had given him a key, slipped into his hand with a wink and a gentle squeeze, and he had kept it in his wallet without ever intending to use it. That was weeks ago, after she had gotten back from England in one piece and the kiss they had shared at the airfield had escalated into discarded clothing and roaming hands once they were safely back in the confines of Miss Fisher’s boudoir. **  
**

Always the pinnacle of modesty and decorum, Jack had insisted that they keep the newly blossomed romance under their hats until he could properly process just how to go about it. His heart wasn’t exactly unscathed–there were scars and nicks in it that had been nursed with endless bottles of whiskey and several broken knuckles. He was older now, wiser, which caused him to be more cautious to go into a relationship full-tilt.

Phryne had managed to change his mind about the situation, though, with her clever tongue–both when it was speaking and when it was otherwise engaged. What had started out as guilty slinking in and out of her residence had eventually turned into lunch hours at her dining room table with his waistcoat unbuttoned and goodbye kisses at night in her foyer.

He now checked his watch and saw that the time was well past midnight. The winter night was crisp and cold, and Jack wiped the back of his hand across his nose to create some friction and feeling back into the tip. Whether or not Phryne was awake didn’t concern Jack–she had told him on more than one occasion that he was welcome in her home at whatever time, and he knew that they’d both be better off waking up in each other’s arms than if he trudged across town back to his small bungalow. Palming the key that would allow him entrance through her front door, he took a steady breath before pressing it into the lock and turning it to disengage the bolt. With the slightest of creaks, the door swung open into her foyer.

Jack crossed the threshold. He noted that most of the lights were off on the first floor–there was a dim glow from the kitchen at the back of the house, visible through the murky darkness of the dining room, and besides the light on the landing on the second floor, the rest of the foyer was dark. The pocket doors to his right were pulled shut, but he could make out the soft throw of light fanning out in the crack at the floor.

Placing his hat and scarf on the peg by the door, along with his overcoat, Jack turned towards the sitting room as he loosened his tie. He was bone tired and could use a drink, but he knew what the light in the room meant. Phryne never went to bed without turning out all the lights besides the one in the kitchen, and the light emanating from underneath the doors indicated to him that she was most likely still awake.

He hooked a finger into the pocket door handle and pushed it open, allowing it to glide soundlessly into the wall. The room was quiet, and Phryne wasn’t immediately seen. She wasn’t standing by the window with a gin fizz or sprawled out on the piano bench, lazily tinkling on the keys while she waited up for him. As he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, he looked around the room, then smiled when his eyes landed on Phryne.

She was curled up on the chaise lounge, wrapped up in his green and tan jumper and snuggled under a cashmere throw. Something about her position on the chaise told him that her uncanny sixth sense had told her that he’d be showing up.  It always made him smile how much smaller she looked when she was asleep–for someone who was so much larger than life, it was amazing how vulnerable she could be in repose. Her breath was falling steadily and evenly, and the hooked sheet of her hair lay on her cheek.

Jack crossed the space between the door and the chaise before stopping in front of Phryne’s sleeping form. Bracing one hand on the arm of the chaise and the other on the back, he leaned down over her head before placing his lips gently against her crown. The scent of her perfume filled his senses and he could feel the warmth of her body against his chest as he pressed another kiss into her hair. Beneath his lips, he felt Phryne give the slightest of movements before he saw the flicker of her eyelashes.

“Jack?” she asked groggily, moving to sit up. “Your nose is freezing.”

He smiled before kissing her on the forehead. “Hello to you, too,” he replied, his voice a gravelly whisper that ghosted across her cheek.

She smiled before lifting her arms and encircling his waist. Pulling him down to sit on the few inches of open chaise between her stomach and the edge, Phryne shifted upward to get a better look at him. The sleeves of his jumper were long on her arms, and she hadn’t bothered to roll them up. With the cuffs covering her hands like mittens, she reached out a hand to gently cup Jack’s face, running her thumb along the sharp edge of his cheekbone that was still flushed from the cold.

“Nicked my sweater, I see,” he said, turning his head towards Phryne’s palm to place a kiss there.

“It isn’t my fault you left it in my room,” she shrugged. “Besides, it’s warm and smells like you.”

Jack smiled and leaned forward, giving her a soft kiss on her lips. “Shall we head upstairs, Miss Fisher?” he said, covering the hand on his cheek with his own.

“Only if you carry me,” she replied with a cheeky wink.

Without a sound, Jack stood up and placed one arm under Phryne’s knees and the other around her shoulders. In one fluid movement, he hoisted her off of the chaise and into his arms. Throwing her head back in laughter, Phryne looped her arms around his neck and buried her head into the collar of his shirt. As he carried her out of the sitting room and towards the stairs, Phryne arched her back and flung a hand towards the light switch, deftly darkening the room in one shot, before curling back up in Jack’s arms and pressing her lips against his neck.

* * *

Being the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher had its ups and its downs. On one hand, Phryne could pretty much do as she pleased on a day-to-day basis. She could wake up whenever she felt like it, she could solve murders without much opposition, she could dance and drink when the mood struck, and she could fly an airplane, just for fun. On the lesser adventurous occasions, she was called to boring teas and forced to socialize with the higher echelon of Melbourne’s society.

It was a beautiful spring day when she was called to the local judge’s house. His wife was hosting an afternoon tea in her back garden, and Phryne had begrudgingly dragged her feet to it. The only bright spot in the otherwise bleak task was that she was able to wear a new dress that she had been saving–mossy green satin with beautiful iridescent beading that made the most wonderful swishing sound whenever she moved.

Before she had left for the party, she had kissed Jack goodbye as he stood in her foyer with a ham sandwich in one hand and a folio of evidence in the other. She had offered her dining room as an office, since Jack’s office at the station was currently being fumigated for termites. He had eagerly taken her up on the offer, knowing that he’d be showered with delicious food from Mr. Butler and a chance to keep an eye on Phryne instead of being blindsided at a crime scene.

It had been tough, leaving Jack in her house to go do something that she had utterly no desire to do. After what seemed like hours of socializing with traditional older women and snooty younger women, Phryne found herself exhausted and utterly spent. She’d much rather deal with blood and gunshot wounds on a sunny afternoon than rubbing elbows with the likes of Melbourne society. With polite goodbyes and smiles that felt like someone had pinned her cheeks back, Phryne quickly made her exit through the garden gate and beelined for the Suiza.

When she pulled up outside of her home, the sun was slowly starting to sink in the sky. She slammed the driver side door of the Suiza shut and whisked herself up the pathway to her front door. With a jiggle of her key, she entered into the foyer of the house and looked around. Pulling off her silk gloves and unpinning her hat, she noticed that the smell of dinner was wafting in from the kitchen, but as she peered through the dining room, she noticed that Jack was not there. Papers were strewn across the mahogany tabletop, and folios were opened, but Jack was nowhere to be found.

Turning on her heel, Phryne made her way to the sitting room across the hall from the makeshift office. The front windows were opened and a warm spring breeze was causing the curtains to flutter. Through the window, the dying light was bleeding through, sending fractured beams of golden sun onto the carpet. Before she could scan the entire room for Jack, an abrupt snore came from the direction of the chaise. Phryne felt her face soften and the tension from the tea slip from her shoulders. A warmth that only Jack Robinson could cause bloomed in her chest at the sight in front of her.

Jack was stretched out on the chaise lounge, clearly fast asleep. He had toed his brogues off and neatly lined them up underneath the chaise, and his socked feet were propped up just above them. His head was pillowed on a bent arm, and he had divested himself of his waistcoat. The tie around his neck was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and the brim of his hat was pulled low over his face so that only the parted pillow of his lips was visible. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the braces he was wearing were taut on his chest. On his stomach was an opened folio, his free hand lax on top of it.

Phryne couldn’t help staring at the defined muscle of his exposed forearms, biting her lip as she hungrily drank him in. _All mine,_ she thought happily to herself. She slipped out of her high-heeled shoes and kicked them softly to the side before treading over to where Jack lay. He let out another snore, and Phryne suppressed a grin. _Poor bugger must be absolutely exhausted._ She felt herself blush at the flashback she had of the night before. _**Definitely** exhausted._

Taking the tip of her pointer finger, Phryne gently pushed the brim of Jack’s hat up and away from his face. With an interrupted snore, Jack shifted below her, turning onto his side and dumping the contents of the folio onto the floor. Phryne let out a huff, looking at the scattered papers before bending over to stack them neatly.

Suddenly, she felt an arm cross her waist and give a gentle tug. She let out as a squeal as she tumbled into Jack’s lap, his other arm coming up to catch her and pull her into his chest. With a breathy laugh, Phryne squirmed in his grip to get a better look at his face. The hat that had been blocking the dying sunlight had tumbled to the floor, and Jack’s hair was soft and wavy, mussed by sleep and the confines of his fedora. He looked at her with hooded eyes, the smallest of satisfied smiles on his face that made his dimples deepen and his eyes sparkle.

“What’re you doing, sneaking around?” he rumbled.

“It’s my house, I can sneak if I want,” she said, kissing the tip of his nose.

Jack let out a hum of agreement, running a hand through the waves of his hair before yawning.

“What’s wrong, Inspector? Did I tire you out last night?” Phryne asked saucily.

“I will gladly be exhausted for the rest of my life if it means that I get to partake in what you did last night,” he replied, cupping her jaw with the calloused palm of his hand.

Phryne wasn’t used to blushing, but somehow Jack Robinson always managed to make her cheeks flush.

“Mr. B should have dinner almost ready,” Phryne said, changing the subject to try and tamper down the heat in her face.

“Mmm, yes, I suppose he will,” Jack responded. “What do you say? Ten more minutes?” His eyes were already starting to droop, and Phryne could feel his breathing evening out again. She smiled as she wedged herself between him and the back of the chaise.

“Ten minutes, no more,” she replied, allowing the exhaustion from the day’s activities to finally take over. She splayed a hand on his chest as she nestled into the crook of his shoulder. Jack brought a protective arm around her as he pulled her closer to him. The hollow of his neck smelled like ginger and vanilla with just the slightest hint of salt. It smelled like home and comfort and Phryne found herself feeling inordinately safe in that exact moment.

The next thing Phryne knew, Mr. B was gently shaking them both awake, letting them know that dinner was ready.


End file.
